Substantive editing sample 16:
Suicide on Wednesday night   (SPOILER)

In this mystery novel, I uncovered a serious plot hole: Why would the authorities wait a whole day after Courtney’s confession before going out to Stan’s to arrest him? And would Stella had cremated Stan within hours of his suicide? You can see (in BLUE BOLDFACE ALL CAPS) how the author responded to my suggestions.

Spoiler alert: If you don’t want to spoil the suspense, Skip this sample and advance to the next one in the series.

This sample is presented here with the author’s permission.

Original
Click to go to the markup.

Courtney Baker, Chief of Staff to the mayor, confessed directly to the Chief of Police. It didn’t take long for the media circus to stake out police headquarters. The mayor came in for questioning, voluntarily, and tried unsuccessfully to slip out past the reporters who were lined up with cameras rolling, eager to capture his fall off the cliff. Images of the impeccably dressed mayor wearing a perplexed expression were plastered all over the regional news outlets. Courtney Baker was given immunity from prosecution in exchange for testifying against the mayor, enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger charged with conspiracy. They hoped to collect enough additional evidence to bring manslaughter charges as well, for the two people who died in the fire. The mayor’s donors, Richard and Lynn Johns, weren’t charged with anything, at least not right away; Courtney’s testimony about their role wasn’t damning enough and the mayor wasn’t giving them up. He was, in fact, steadfastly denying the whole conspiracy. Stan Mueller was facing arson and manslaughter, though he was expected to catch a break if he cooperated. At least, he might have caught a break had he lived. When police went down to his house in Aquoqua the next day to bring him in for processing, they found him dead. He’d brought a generator into his bedroom, closed all the doors and windows, and let the thing run all night while he fell asleep. Like his first wife, Gretchen, Stan died a peaceful death from carbon monoxide poisoning. I was shocked but not surprised. In a short time, he’d lost both Stella, his wife, and the mayor, his best friend. It was losing the mayor that hurt the most, I suspected. After Stan lost his first wife, Gretchen, he put everything he had into the mayor, built his whole life around being the mayor’s most essential aide. After he turned on the mayor—ratted out his most loyal friend—and watched his public fall from grace, Stan must have realized that he didn’t have anything left for himself. His purpose was gone, and I guess he wasn’t inclined to stick around and start over. From everything I’ve heard about him, all the praise from people who knew him a long time, I’d suppose he was also broken up over the two deaths at the convention center. If that was true, he did what Big Dan had been telling him to do—he took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure Big Dan could have come up with a dozen better options. We’ll never really know what was going on in Stan’s head, though. Stan, like most people who kill themselves, didn’t bother to leave a note with a tidy explanation for his suicide. I called Adam in the evening and he agreed to meet me for dinner, to talk things out. When the news of the conspiracy hit the press, he softened up a bit; maybe it made me seem like less of an asshole for standing him up the other night. “I assumed that was just your chicken shit way of telling me to leave you alone, for having the nerve to ask where this thing was going,” he said. “Maybe I overreacted…a little.” I told him about the whole series of events, from the details of how we escaped the fire to learning about Stan’s suicide. He thought it was a hell of a story, which it was, of course, just not one that Wandering Gourmet was going to publish. 12 pages (three chapters) later (in chapter 50) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) I drove back to Dubuque to get one last coffee from the Wired Bean before heading out of town. I filled my travel mug with dark roast this time and bought a croissant filled with milk chocolate from Post-Modern; I was curious to find out if I could taste any bitterness. I couldn’t, not in the chocolate, anyway. On the way out, I saw Stella sitting at a café table on the patio. I stopped to offer my condolences. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, wishing I had a better way to offer condolences. “Thank you, Frank. This has been a terrible week. I’m glad it’s almost over.” “What are you going to do now?” “First, I’m going to give Stan a good send-off. He was cremated, like he wanted to be. We’re going to take his ashes and scatter them in the Mississippi near Aquoqua, let him rest for good back home.” She picked up a napkin and wiped a few tears from her eyes. 4 pages (the next chapter) later (in chapter 51) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) The July heat wave hadn’t let up, but I didn’t care. The trees shielded most of the mid-day sun and I was getting used to the humidity. I slipped off my shirt and paddled slowly down to Big Dan’s place. I could hear a light breeze rustling through the tops of the oak trees and cottonwoods, but none of its cooling power reached down to river level. As I made my way through the backwaters, I wondered how many times Stan had passed through, how many fish he taken out of this river. I wondered if, before he settled into bed on his last night alive, if he’d taken one last trip out on these waters. Did he spend a few final hours at his favorite hideaway on Nine-Mile Island, near the place where he rescued his friend, Michael Andelfinger when they were kids?

Markup
Click to go to the author’s review.

Courtney Baker, Chief of Staff to chief of staff to the mayor, confessed directly to the Chief of Police. the chief of police. It didn’t take long for the media circus to stake out police headquarters. The mayor came in for questioning, voluntarily, and tried unsuccessfully to slip out past the reporters who were lined up with cameras rolling, eager to capture his fall off the cliff. Images of the impeccably dressed mayor wearing a perplexed expression were plastered all over the regional news outlets. Courtney Baker was given immunity from prosecution in exchange for testifying against the mayor, enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger charged with conspiracy. [In the Epilogue we have this: “Right after the mayor was arrested . . .”; how about this revision to the previous sentence: “. . . enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger arrested on the charge of conspiracy.” You might even consider the following parenthetical sentence: “(He was, of course, released on his own recognizance.)”] They hoped Prosecutors hoped to collect enough additional evidence to bring manslaughter charges as well, for the two people who died who had died in the fire. The mayor’s donors, Richard and Lynn Johns, weren’t charged with anything, at least not right away; Courtney’s testimony about their role wasn’t damning enough and enough, and the mayor wasn’t giving them up. He was, in fact, steadfastly denying the whole conspiracy. Stan Mueller was facing arson and manslaughter, though he was expected to catch a break if he cooperated. At least, he might have caught a break had he lived. When police went down to his house in Aquoqua the next day [Courtney confessed on Thursday, and the cops waited until Friday to arrest Stan for arson and manslaughter? That seems unlikely. I recommend changing the preceding to “When police went down to his house in Aquoqua that afternoon” (see my next few comments to further justify this change)] to bring him in for processing, they found him dead. He’d brought a generator into his bedroom, closed all the doors and windows, and let the thing run all night while he fell asleep. Like his first wife, Gretchen, Stan died a peaceful death from carbon monoxide poisoning. I was shocked but not surprised. In a short time, he’d lost both Stella, his wife, and the mayor, his best friend. It was losing the mayor that hurt the most, I suspected. After Stan lost his first wife, Gretchen, he put he’d put everything he had into the mayor, built his whole life around being the mayor’s most essential aide. After he turned on the mayor—ratted out his most loyal friend—and watched his public fall from grace, [Stan saw the media circus on Thursday and realized that Mike had fallen, then went home and killed himself that night? NO! Why didn’t the cops arrest him sooner? Of course, they would have arrested him on this day, Thursday. Stan knew after he had confessed Wednesday evening to Jefferson and Frank that he had betrayed his best friend; that was enough motivation for him to kill himself that very night—and the cops who came to arrest him Thursday afternoon found his body instead] Stan must have realized that he didn’t have anything left for himself. His purpose was gone, and I guess he wasn’t inclined to stick around and start over. From everything I’ve heard everything I’d heard about him, all the praise from people who knew him people who’d known him a long time, I’d suppose I suppose he was also broken up over the two deaths at the convention center. If that was true, he did what Big Dan had been telling him to do—he took do: He took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure Big Dan could have come up with a dozen better options. We’ll never We would never really know what was going on in Stan’s head, though. Stan, like most people who kill themselves, didn’t bother to leave a note with a tidy explanation for his suicide. I called Adam in the evening and evening, and he agreed to meet me for dinner, to talk things out. When the news of the conspiracy hit the press, he softened up a bit; maybe it made me seem like less of an asshole for standing him up the other night. the previous night. [The narrative present is Thursday evening. Frank stood Adam up on Wednesday evening.] “I assumed that was just your chicken shit way your chickenshit way of telling me to leave you alone, for having the nerve to ask where this thing was going,” he said. “Maybe I overreacted…a little overreacted . . . a little.” I told him about the whole series of events, from the details of how we escaped the fire to learning about Stan’s suicide. [Here is the most probable sequence of events: Stan kills himself the previous night (Wednesday) after he actually confessed to Jefferson and Frank at Big Dan’s (he already knew the jig was up with Mike because he knew Jefferson and Frank would persist until they had the goods on Mike, and his confession had been the kernel of it), the cops go out to arrest Stan on Thursday as soon as Courtney told them it was arson/manslaughter implicating herself, Mike, and Stan—and they discover then that Stan was dead, so at the Thursday night dinner with Adam, it is clear that Stan had killed himself. We can discuss this if you like. See another comment in chapter 51 about something that needs attention there about the timing of Stan’s death.] He thought it was a hell was one hell of a story, which story—which it was, of course, just course—just not one that Wandering Gourmet was going to publish. 12 pages (three chapters) later (in chapter 50) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) I drove back to Dubuque to get one last coffee from the Wired from The Wired Bean before heading out of town. I filled my travel mug with dark roast this time and bought a croissant filled with milk chocolate from Post-Modern; I was curious to find out if I could taste any bitterness. I couldn’t, not couldn’t—not in the chocolate, anyway. On the way out, I saw Stella sitting at a café table on the patio. I stopped to offer my condolences. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, wishing I wishing that I had a better way to offer condolences. “Thank you, Frank. This has been a terrible week. I’m glad it’s almost over.” “What are you going to do now?” “First, I’m going to give Stan a good send-off. He was cremated, [this is Friday, presumably late morning... in the timeline I proposed in my comments in chapter 47, Stan died in his sleep Wednesday night and his body was discovered by the cops on Thursday... unless he was cremated that same day (yesterday) or just an hour or two before Stella says this to Frank in the narrative present, consider replacing “He was cremated” with “He’ll be cremated”; it could be later that day, and the ash scattering in the Mississippi as well... then Stella’s “terrible week” will be over, as she anticipated in the previous speech] like he wanted to be. We’re going to take his ashes and scatter them in the Mississippi near Aquoqua, let him rest Aquoqua. Let him rest for good back home.” She picked up a napkin and wiped a few tears from her eyes. 4 pages (the next chapter) later (in chapter 51) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) The July heat wave hadn’t let up, but I didn’t care. The trees shielded most of the mid-day sun the midday sun, and I was getting used to the humidity. I slipped off my shirt and paddled slowly down to Big Dan’s place. I could hear a light breeze rustling through the tops of the oak trees and the oaks and cottonwoods, but none of its cooling power reached down to river level. As I made my way through the backwaters, I wondered how many times Stan had passed through, how many fish he taken out of this river. I wondered if, before he settled into bed on his last night alive, if he’d taken one last trip out on these waters. Did he spend a Had he spent a few final hours at his favorite hideaway on Nine-Mile Island, near the place where he rescued where he’d rescued his friend, Michael Andelfinger when Andelfinger, when they were kids? [Consider dropping this paragraph (or at least all but its first sentence). In the timeline I proposed in my comments in chapter 47, Stan died in his sleep Wednesday night (his body discovered by the cops on Thursday). It was already dark on Wednesday evening when Stan had confessed his arson to Jefferson and Frank at Big Dan’s. He really had time just to go home, set up the generator, and go to bed for his final sleep. There would have been no chance for him to have “spent a few final hours at his favorite hideaway on Nine-Mile Island”; his “one last trip out on these waters” could only have been to get from Big Dan’s to his own house.]

The Author’s Review
in BLUE BOLDFACE ALL CAPS
Click to go to the second-pass result.

Courtney Baker, Chief of Staff to chief of staff to the mayor, confessed directly to the Chief of Police. the chief of police. It didn’t take long for the media circus to stake out police headquarters. The mayor came in for questioning, voluntarily, and tried unsuccessfully to slip out past the reporters who were lined up with cameras rolling, eager to capture his fall off the cliff. Images of the impeccably dressed mayor wearing a perplexed expression were plastered all over the regional news outlets. Courtney Baker was given immunity from prosecution in exchange for testifying against the mayor, enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger charged with conspiracy. [In the Epilogue we have this: “Right after the mayor was arrested . . .”; how about this revision to the previous sentence: “. . . enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger arrested on the charge of conspiracy.” You might even consider the following parenthetical sentence: “(He was, of course, released on his own recognizance.)”] ENOUGH TO GET MAYOR MICHAEL ANDELFINGER ARRESTED FOR CONSPIRACY, ALTHOUGH HE WAS PROMPTLY RELEASED ON BAIL. They hoped Prosecutors hoped to collect enough additional evidence to bring manslaughter charges as well, for the two people who died who had died in the fire. The mayor’s donors, Richard and Lynn Johns, weren’t charged with anything, at least not right away; Courtney’s testimony about their role wasn’t damning enough and enough, and the mayor wasn’t giving them up. He was, in fact, steadfastly denying the whole conspiracy. Stan Mueller was facing arson and manslaughter, though he was expected to catch a break if he cooperated. At least, he might have caught a break had he lived. When police went down to his house in Aquoqua the next day [Courtney confessed on Thursday, and the cops waited until Friday to arrest Stan for arson and manslaughter? That seems unlikely. I recommend changing the preceding to “When police went down to his house in Aquoqua that afternoon” (see my next few comments to further justify this change)] CHANGE "THE NEXT DAY" TO "THURSDAY AFTERNOON" to bring him in for processing, they found him dead. He’d brought a generator into his bedroom, closed all the doors and windows, and let the thing run all night while he fell asleep WEDNESDAY NIGHT. . Like his first wife, Gretchen, Stan died a peaceful death from carbon monoxide poisoning. I was shocked but not surprised. In a short time, he’d lost both Stella, his wife, and the mayor, his best friend. It was losing the mayor that hurt the most, I suspected. After Stan lost his first wife, Gretchen, he put he’d put everything he had into the mayor, built his whole life around being the mayor’s most essential aide. After he turned on the mayor—ratted out his most loyal friend—and watched his public fall from grace, [Stan saw the media circus on Thursday and realized that Mike had fallen, then went home and killed himself that night? NO! Why didn’t the cops arrest him sooner? Of course, they would have arrested him on this day, Thursday. Stan knew after he had confessed Wednesday evening to Jefferson and Frank that he had betrayed his best friend; that was enough motivation for him to kill himself that very night—and the cops who came to arrest him Thursday afternoon found his body instead] CUT THE PHRASE AFTER THE SECOND EM DASH "AND WATCHED..." Stan must have realized that he didn’t have anything left for himself. His purpose was gone, and I guess he wasn’t inclined to stick around and start over. From everything I’ve heard everything I’d heard about him, all the praise from people who knew him people who’d known him a long time, I’d suppose I suppose he was also broken up over the two deaths at the convention center. If that was true, he did what Big Dan had been telling him to do—he took do: He took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure Big Dan could have come up with a dozen better options. We’ll never We would never really know what was going on in Stan’s head, though. Stan, like most people who kill themselves, didn’t bother to leave a note with a tidy explanation for his suicide. I called Adam in the evening and evening, and he agreed to meet me for dinner, to talk things out. When the news of the conspiracy hit the press, he softened up a bit; maybe it made me seem like less of an asshole for standing him up the other night. the previous night. [The narrative present is Thursday evening. Frank stood Adam up on Wednesday evening.] “I assumed that was just your chicken shit way your chickenshit way of telling me to leave you alone, for having the nerve to ask where this thing was going,” he said. “Maybe I overreacted…a little overreacted . . . a little.” I told him about the whole series of events, from the details of how we escaped the fire to learning about Stan’s suicide. [Here is the most probable sequence of events: Stan kills himself the previous night (Wednesday) after he actually confessed to Jefferson and Frank at Big Dan’s (he already knew the jig was up with Mike because he knew Jefferson and Frank would persist until they had the goods on Mike, and his confession had been the kernel of it), the cops go out to arrest Stan on Thursday as soon as Courtney told them it was arson/manslaughter implicating herself, Mike, and Stan—and they discover then that Stan was dead, so at the Thursday night dinner with Adam, it is clear that Stan had killed himself. We can discuss this if you like. See another comment in chapter 51 about something that needs attention there about the timing of Stan’s death.] YOUR CORRECTIONS ARE GOOD; SEE MY CHANGES ABOVE He thought it was a hell was one hell of a story, which story—which it was, of course, just course—just not one that Wandering Gourmet was going to publish. 12 pages (three chapters) later (in chapter 50) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) I drove back to Dubuque to get one last coffee from the Wired from The Wired Bean before heading out of town. I filled my travel mug with dark roast this time and bought a croissant filled with milk chocolate from Post-Modern; I was curious to find out if I could taste any bitterness. I couldn’t, not couldn’t—not in the chocolate, anyway. On the way out, I saw Stella sitting at a café table on the patio. I stopped to offer my condolences. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, wishing I wishing that I had a better way to offer condolences. “Thank you, Frank. This has been a terrible week. I’m glad it’s almost over.” “What are you going to do now?” “First, I’m going to give Stan a good send-off. He was cremated, [this is Friday, presumably late morning... in the timeline I proposed in my comments in chapter 47, Stan died in his sleep Wednesday night and his body was discovered by the cops on Thursday... unless he was cremated that same day (yesterday) or just an hour or two before Stella says this to Frank in the narrative present, consider replacing “He was cremated” with “He’ll be cremated”; it could be later that day, and the ash scattering in the Mississippi as well... then Stella’s “terrible week” will be over, as she anticipated in the previous speech] HE'LL BE CREMATED like he wanted to be. We’re going to take his ashes and scatter them in the Mississippi near Aquoqua, let him rest Aquoqua. Let him rest for good back home.” She picked up a napkin and wiped a few tears from her eyes. 4 pages (the next chapter) later (in chapter 51) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) The July heat wave hadn’t let up, but I didn’t care. The trees shielded most of the mid-day sun the midday sun, and I was getting used to the humidity. I slipped off my shirt and paddled slowly down to Big Dan’s place. I could hear a light breeze rustling through the tops of the oak trees and the oaks and cottonwoods, but none of its cooling power reached down to river level. As I made my way through the backwaters, I wondered how many times Stan had passed through, how many fish he taken out of this river. I wondered if, before he settled into bed on his last night alive, if he’d taken one last trip out on these waters. Did he spend a Had he spent a few final hours at his favorite hideaway on Nine-Mile Island, near the place where he rescued where he’d rescued his friend, Michael Andelfinger when Andelfinger, when they were kids? [Consider dropping this paragraph (or at least all but its first sentence). In the timeline I proposed in my comments in chapter 47, Stan died in his sleep Wednesday night (his body discovered by the cops on Thursday). It was already dark on Wednesday evening when Stan had confessed his arson to Jefferson and Frank at Big Dan’s. He really had time just to go home, set up the generator, and go to bed for his final sleep. There would have been no chance for him to have “spent a few final hours at his favorite hideaway on Nine-Mile Island”; his “one last trip out on these waters” could only have been to get from Big Dan’s to his own house.] OK TO LEAVE THE FIRST SENTENCE AND CUT THE REST OF THE PARAGRAPH. THEN ATTACH THAT SENTENCE TO THE PREVIOUS PARAGRAPH.

The Second-Pass Result
Click to go to the next sample in the series.

Courtney Baker, chief of staff to the mayor, confessed directly to the chief of police. It didn’t take long for the media circus to stake out police headquarters. The mayor came in for questioning, voluntarily, and tried unsuccessfully to slip out past the reporters who were lined up with cameras rolling, eager to capture his fall off the cliff. Images of the impeccably dressed mayor wearing a perplexed expression were plastered all over the regional news outlets. Courtney Baker was given immunity from prosecution in exchange for testifying against the mayor, enough to get Mayor Michael Andelfinger arrested for conspiracy, although he was promptly released on bail. Prosecutors hoped to collect enough additional evidence to bring manslaughter charges as well, for the two people who had died in the fire. The mayor’s donors, Richard and Lynn Johns, weren’t charged with anything, at least not right away; Courtney’s testimony about their role wasn’t damning enough, and the mayor wasn’t giving them up. He was, in fact, steadfastly denying the whole conspiracy. Stan Mueller was facing arson and manslaughter, though he was expected to catch a break if he cooperated. At least, he might have caught a break had he lived. When police went down to his house in Aquoqua Thursday afternoon to bring him in for processing, they found him dead. He’d brought a generator into his bedroom, closed all the doors and windows, and let the thing run all Wednesday night while he fell asleep. Like his first wife, Gretchen, Stan died a peaceful death from carbon monoxide poisoning. I was shocked but not surprised. In a short time, he’d lost both Stella, his wife, and the mayor, his best friend. It was losing the mayor that hurt the most, I suspected. After Stan lost his first wife, Gretchen, he’d put everything he had into the mayor, built his whole life around being the mayor’s most essential aide. After he turned on the mayor—ratted out his most loyal friend—Stan must have realized that he didn’t have anything left for himself. His purpose was gone, and I guess he wasn’t inclined to stick around and start over. From everything I’d heard about him, all the praise from people who’d known him a long time, I suppose he was also broken up over the two deaths at the convention center. If that was true, he did what Big Dan had been telling him to do: He took responsibility for his actions. I’m sure Big Dan could have come up with a dozen better options. We would never really know what was going on in Stan’s head, though. Stan, like most people who kill themselves, didn’t bother to leave a note with a tidy explanation for his suicide. I called Adam in the evening, and he agreed to meet me for dinner, to talk things out. When the news of the conspiracy hit the press, he softened up a bit; maybe it made me seem like less of an asshole for standing him up the previous night. “I assumed that was just your chickenshit way of telling me to leave you alone, for having the nerve to ask where this thing was going,” he said. “Maybe I overreacted . . . a little.” I told him about the whole series of events, from the details of how we escaped the fire to learning about Stan’s suicide. He thought it was one hell of a story—which it was, of course, just course—just not one that Wandering Gourmet was going to publish. 12 pages (three chapters) later (in chapter 50) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) I drove back to Dubuque to get one last coffee from The Wired Bean before heading out of town. I filled my travel mug with dark roast this time and bought a croissant filled with milk chocolate from Post-Modern; I was curious to find out if I could taste any bitterness. I couldn’t—not in the chocolate, anyway. On the way out, I saw Stella sitting at a café table on the patio. I stopped to offer my condolences. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, wishing that I had a better way to offer condolences. “Thank you, Frank. This has been a terrible week. I’m glad it’s almost over.” “What are you going to do now?” “First, I’m going to give Stan a good send-off. He’ll be cremated, like he wanted to be. We’re going to take his ashes and scatter them in the Mississippi near Aquoqua. Let him rest for good back home.” She picked up a napkin and wiped a few tears from her eyes. 4 pages (the next chapter) later (in chapter 51) (THE SPOILER CONTINUES) The July heat wave hadn’t let up, but I didn’t care. The trees shielded most of the midday sun, and I was getting used to the humidity. I slipped off my shirt and paddled slowly down to Big Dan’s place. I could hear a light breeze rustling through the tops of the oaks and cottonwoods, but none of its cooling power reached down to river level. As I made my way through the backwaters, I wondered how many times Stan had passed through, how many fish he taken out of this river.